


Snow and Sorrow

by Kalira



Series: Pack Love [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Discord: Umino Hours, First Meetings, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hatake Kakashi is Helping, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Umino Iruka, Omega Verse, Snow, Teen Hatake Kakashi, Umino Hours Winter Bingo, Umino Hours Winter Bingo 2020-2021, Umino Iruka Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28649040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Iruka is all alone in the cold, but he has grown used to that in the year since he lost his parents, and he knows nothing can change that now, certainly not the magic of the first snow. Can it?
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Umino Iruka
Series: Pack Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099499
Comments: 9
Kudos: 103
Collections: Kalira's Iruka Winter Bingo Stories (2020-2021), The Umino Hours Winter Bingo 2020





	Snow and Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the space 'First Snow' on [my Iruka Winter Bingo board](https://kalira.dreamwidth.org/33520.html)!
> 
> This is currently (and at least so far as my concrete plans, will remain for now) the first story in a rather extensive (planned to be so) series; Pack Love, as one might guess, while being an omegaverse setting, focuses far more on the bonds and affection, all platonic, between packmates than upon romantic relationships. (Though a few of those will come into play, too - considerably later in the timeline.)
> 
> As the summary hints, in this story Iruka is 11 years old and Kakashi is 15.

Iruka sniffled, brushing his fingers over the stone marker. It was damp and covered with spidery frost, but he could make out the names easily all the same . . . not that he needed to; they were etched, forever, in his mind.

He curled up tighter, burying his face in his knees. There was no one to see him anyway, no one to see that he was- was falling apart.

His heart ached and his lungs burned as he fought not to sob, dragging in deep, icy cold breaths that filled his chest and only made him feel colder and more. . .

Iruka lifted his head again, scrubbing the tears away with his sleeve. The graveyard was empty, of course, and he _was_ alone.

He was always alone, it seemed like. Now. The bitter cold out here really only . . . made him realise it more. Made it _cut_ more. But he was always alone, even when he was in the crowd at the orphanage - even when he was making a show of himself and had all the other kids laughing and grinning at him. At the him he showed them.

A soft tickle slid along his nose, and Iruka sniffed, tilting his head up, lashes fluttering as fluffy, ice-edged snowflakes whirled before his face. His breath caught. The-

The first snow of the season.

Iruka scrubbed his sleeve over his face again, feeling even more cut off in the quiet. The first snow continued to fall around him, something that was supposed to be soft and cheering, a promise for the future, for companionship, but. . .

But Iruka was alone.

He pressed his fingers to the gravestone, choking out a few words to his parents, then- He pulled them back, pressing his frozen hands to his face. The snow fell more heavily around him, beginning to gather on the stone before him and the others all around him - and even on Iruka himself.

Iruka didn’t have anywhere to be - and no one would be missing him, he knew that. He hauled himself up anyway, legs numb from cold and from sitting folded up tight on the ground, and half-stumbled away, vision blurred by the growing dusk, the snow in the air, and- and the tears in his eyes.

He was slow in the sharp, cold winter air, and the snow falling ever faster around him muddled things; Iruka nearly caught himself up in one of the hedges that marked out the graveyard before following it to find the entrance he thought he’d been walking towards. He stumbled through a rising drift of snow and grabbed at the hedge to steady himself, his fingers stinging dully from the whippy branches.

Nobody would miss him, he thought, but he pulled himself up anyway. Where else did he have to go?

Iruka kept moving, through a world blurred by white but not yet softened by the blank prettiness of snow - still painted in all its ugly shades. He wasn’t sure how far he’d actually made it before he slowed to a stop, though, sinking down onto what he’d thought was a bench but proved to be nothing more than the edge of the path.

The snow was too cold to be wet, at least, Iruka thought as he ran his fingers through it against his legs. And Iruka was too cold for his body heat to melt it much, either. He lifted his hand, fingers splayed, snow clinging to his chilled skin.

Iruka flicked his fingers, watching blankly as the snow spiralled around them and clung once more.

He jumped when a hand caught his shoulder, head snapping up. For a moment he thought there was some kind of spirit, seeing just a dark face and nothing else, and then it resolved into a boy with silvery hair framing a masked face. It was almost like he had materialised out of the snow.

“Hey, are you with me?”

Iruka blinked, sniffling - and oh the cold _burned_ in his nose and his lungs, even after so long out here - and nodded tentatively.

“Come here,” the boy grabbed his arm, gentle, and pulled him to his feet, “it’s too cold out here, you’re not even wearing a coat.”

Iruka didn’t own a coat, he thought nonsensically.

The boy moved a little closer, shoulders blocking some of the icy wind, and Iruka tilted his head back to look him in the face; he was taller than Iruka, but he didn’t loom, he just looked . . . awkward. He had a hitai-ate hiding one eye, beneath the messy fall of his silver fringe. “Where do you belong? You need to get back home.”

Iruka opened his mouth, then, to his mortification, choked on a little sob.

“Hey, I’ll- I’ll take you back myself, it’s all right, just-”

“I don’t _belong anywhere_.” Iruka sobbed before he could control it. This boy wasn’t one of the kids at the orphanage, wasn’t his sensei, wasn’t one of the _responsible adults_ in Iruka’s life now, he was . . . he was no one to Iruka and Iruka couldn’t keep up the mask he always did in front of this full-fledged ninja and it was _such a stupid little thing_ -

Iruka gasped as he found himself snug against the boy’s skinny frame. “All right, all right, shhh. . .” The boy cupped the back of his neck for a moment, his touch shivery and soothing, then stepped back, drawing Iruka with him. “I’ve got you. You still need to get inside, come with me.”

Iruka . . . went. Let himself be pulled through the snow, sheltering a little bit in the space behind the older boy, whose fingers were wrapped around his forearm now. It was an almost painful shock when they slipped inside, a door closing behind them, and it wasn’t exactly _warm_ in here - Iruka thought, anyway; he had gotten so cold he could hardly feel it - but it wasn’t bitterly cold either, and the whirling snow was shut out, and-

“Come on, this way.” The boy looked at Iruka, his one visible eye closing into a crinkled curve, and curled an arm around his shoulders, drawing him towards the stairs. Up several flights and through a non-descript door into a small but _actually warm_ apartment and Iruka shivered, aching a little.

“Sorry, it’s tight.” the boy said, and an instant after Iruka realised the arm around his shoulders was gone, the boy walking away, he was back, wrapping a blanket around Iruka’s shoulders. “Hungry?”

Iruka shook his head and the boy tsked, nudging him to sit down on the bed, which was on second glance the only piece of furniture in the place _to_ sit on, really. Iruka fidgeted uncomfortably and watched as the boy shed his coat and armour, leaving them on the desk beneath the window, before going to poke around in the tiny kitchen area. It wasn’t . . . _familiar_ , exactly, there was so much that was strange about where he found himself, but-

Iruka wrapped his hands around the bowl he was offered and sipped the hot broth, groaning. His stomach protested, because he _was_ hungry, too hungry and frozen and sick with it, and the boy sat beside him, resettling the blanket around his shoulders and leaving his arm there, and- and there were omegas at the orphanage, of course, but none of them. . .

It had been a long time since Iruka had been. . . No one _fussed_ over Iruka, looked after him, not any more.

Iruka looked into the now-empty bowl, a little surprised to find he had finished it already. His stomach grumbled.

“I’ll get you some more.” The boy’s fingers trailed over Iruka’s hair as he rose, taking the bowl, and walked away. Iruka didn’t even know-

“I’m Iruka.” Iruka said, tangling his fingers together in his lap and scooting back a little on the bed, folding his legs. “I- Uh. I’m not. . . I live at the orphanage.” he said softly. “I _do_ have someplace to go, you don’t have to. . .”

“I’m Kakashi.” the boy said, returning and offering the bowl to Iruka again. “I don’t have family either. Not any more.”

Iruka’s throat tightened, his fingers shaking around the bowl, and Kakashi cupped his hands around them, steadying his grip. “Hey. I’ve got you.” Kakashi said, voice gentle, hands clasping tighter for a moment. “You’re all right here.” He nodded towards the bowl. “Eat.”

Iruka sniffed a little, resting the bowl on his legs, and Kakashi rose, stretching and taking his place on the bed again, this time sliding back until he could lean against the wall.

“Thanks.” Iruka said, rubbing his thumb over the side of the bowl. “It’s been- I- Thanks.” he said again, voice low.

Kakashi made a soft wordless sound and Iruka blinked back tears as he brought the bowl to his lips. It took him a little longer to finish this time, but by the time he had his fingers had passed through aching and were starting to feel halfway normal again. He sniffed, rubbing his face - his nose was still cold and it felt like it might start running; he sniffed harder - and then tugged the blanket more closely around him.

A touch to his back made him jump, twisting to look at Kakashi as though it could have been anything - anyone - else. Kakashi rubbed his back lightly and Iruka . . . leaned into his hand, cautious but-

Kakashi curled his fingers into the blanket and tugged lightly, and Iruka started to release it but he made a soft chiding noise. Iruka wriggled backwards instead, and he gave a brief, approving purr, rougher than any omega Iruka had heard before but calming all the same.

With a moment’s fidgeting and a few light nudges from Kakashi, Iruka found himself leaning comfortably against the wall by Kakashi’s side, the empty bowl sitting on the bed nearby. He edged a little closer and found a comfortable place against Kakashi’s bony shoulder, realising as he tucked his legs up how _much_ bigger Kakashi was than Iruka himself, lanky though he was. He didn’t really seem like it, but he wrapped an arm around Iruka and his shoulder was right there for Iruka to lean on and he was . . . big enough to feel sheltered by.

Iruka told himself not to- He didn’t even _know_ Kakashi. But he was warm and comfortable, and he’d fed Iruka and clucked over him like no one had since his parents- Since-

Even though he couldn’t be _that_ much older than Iruka, he tsked expectantly in a way that reminded Iruka of their neighbour - an unmated omega - who had used to look after him sometimes when both his parents were on missions.

. . .and Kakashi didn’t _know_ Iruka - he didn’t expect Iruka to grin, or joke, or _be okay_. He didn’t expect . . . anything.

It was shockingly- Iruka felt less awkward in his skin, knowing that.

He sniffed, turning his cheek a little closer against Kakashi’s prominent collarbone, not trying to mark him or anything but wanting to be just . . . a little closer. He sighed, and Kakashi hummed, voice rumbling low, not quite a purr, more like-

Iruka stiffened, drawing a deeper breath, and his eyes snapped open.

His nose was still feeling itchy and runny, fouling his breathing, but despite that Iruka could _scent_ now - he’d been more than half noseblind - and that- that was the rich scent of an _alpha_ , a mature alpha even and- He yelped as he scrambled sideways, out of the _curve of Kakashi’s arm_ , which was snug around him, but- Kakashi didn’t hold on to him, letting him pull away even as he thrashed and he thought he might have kicked Kakashi accidentally.

He yelled even louder as the world spun, his head throbbing achily, and-

Iruka winced, looking at the floor . . . just beneath his head. Where he hadn’t fallen. He wriggled a bit and Kakashi’s hand tightened around his thigh, just above his knee, and Iruka cringed.

“Are you all right?” Kakashi asked, and Iruka squirmed, whining pitifully.

Kakashi pulled him back up onto the bed and he came up to face a concerned, confused look in a stormy eye. “Iruka? Is something wrong?”

Iruka could smell him - all around them, and on _himself_ , and-

Clasping his arm, Kakashi pulled him up, then just. . .

Let go.

“Iruka?” Kakashi asked gently, leaning close without quite crowding him. Iruka sniffed, his nose running. It brought him another half-coherent lungful of Kakashi’s scent and he had _no idea_ how he had thought that Kakashi was an omega, his scent wasn’t overly heavy and it certainly wasn’t _unpleasant_ but. . .

It was most definitely, clearly, alpha.

“Here.” Kakashi offered him a box of tissues and Iruka flushed, blowing his nose. “Do you feel ill?” he asked, reaching out and brushing his inner forearm against Iruka’s brow.

“No!” Iruka almost squeaked. Kakashi made a grumbling noise and Iruka shook his head. “No I’m okay, I just-” He broke off. He just _what_?

Iruka blew his nose again rather than try to finish that.

“Are you sure?” Kakashi asked, and Iruka shivered as Kakashi put a hand on his knee, thumb rubbing back and forth lightly.

“Yes. I’m fine.” Iruka said, and sniffed again. He couldn’t quite help it. It was partly because of his irritated sinuses and the thickness in his nose even after blowing it several times, and partly. . . Kakashi’s scent was so heady and unmistakable, clean with an almost metallic tang, and Iruka didn’t need further confirmation of what his nose had already told him, but. . .

Kakashi gave a soft, interrogative croon, and Iruka’s breath caught. He raised his gaze to meet Kakashi’s, gentle concern clear on the sliver of his face Iruka could see. Iruka hadn’t been so close to an alpha alone since his father. . . He shook his head.

He curled his fingers into the edge of the blanket, which had been spread messily across the bed - _Kakashi’s_ bed, the _alpha’s_ bed - when Iruka jerked away from him. Kakashi hadn’t hurt him, hadn’t even _tried_ to push him - Iruka hadn’t even _known_ he was an alpha. . .

Iruka didn’t think he _would_ , aside from his unease at not having realised sooner Iruka didn’t feel uncomfortable in his presence - in his _den_. But-

“I should get back.” Iruka said, almost reluctant at the thought of- Well, of leaving here, in the quiet, warm den where he’d been fed and there was nothing . . . _expected_ of him. “I- I don’t even know how long. . .”

“All right.” Kakashi clasped his wrist, startling him. The touch was gentle, callused fingertips sliding over the tender inside of his forearm, and then it was gone, with a feathery brush of Kakashi’s palm against his cheek. “I’ll walk you back.”

Iruka lifted his head, eyes wide. Kakashi’s eye crinkled in the faint smile again. “You don’t need to- I can get myself back.” Iruka scrambled to his feet. “I know I was-”

Kakashi had found him sitting in the snow like some kind of thoughtless- But Iruka wasn’t stupid.

“Arms.” Kakashi said, and Iruka turned just in time to catch his shoulder against something. Kakashi hummed, shifting the soft weight and Iruka realised it was a coat only as Kakashi settled it around his shoulders. Kakashi made a prompting noise and Iruka shifted slowly to slide his arms into the sleeves, feeling the thick softness of the fur as Kakashi did up the front for him. “There. A little big for you, maybe, but at least you won’t freeze.”

Iruka ran his fingers over the fur hesitantly, and Kakashi fiddled with the collar, bringing it up around his neck and jaw. Iruka shivered and snuggled into it, though he wasn’t cold; it was just so . . . _cosily warm_.

It also, Iruka realised as he buried his nose against the fur, smelled thickly of Kakashi. Of course it did, it must be his own coat, and even if he wore that mask up over his neck and half his face, his scent would come thick at the throat.

Iruka tucked his nose a little deeper into it, breathing it in. It should have been overwhelming, perhaps, but it was only . . . nice.

Kakashi moved in front of him and Iruka looked up to see him in a - much lighter - coat himself. “Ready to get back?” he asked, sliding a hand over Iruka’s shoulder and across his back, hooking his arm around Iruka.

He nodded, finding himself ridiculously hard-pressed not to just . . . lean into Kakashi’s side.

Kakashi’s hand rubbed up and down his arm, keeping him comfortably close, and Iruka was caught between the thought that he _should_ be tense and pull away, and the fact that he just . . . wasn’t. It was easy to stay under Kakashi’s arm even as they made their way outside . . . and then, with the bitter cold and the thick snow - it was still coming down heavily, fluffy flakes whirling in the air - even though he was _much_ warmer wrapped in Kakashi’s coat, Iruka found himself reluctant to leave the shelter of Kakashi’s body even when they reached the orphanage.

“Will you be all right?” Kakashi asked, fingers running down a lock of Iruka’s hair that had fallen free of his ponytail, brushing his cheek.

Iruka nodded, sniffling, his nose aching from the cold - and now, even with the cold deadening scents, he could still scent Kakashi. Both from the coat wrapped around him and from Kakashi himself, warm and close.

“Here, you can take-” Kakashi caught Iruka’s hands as he pulled at the first button of the fur coat, squeezing gently.

“No. Keep it. And _wear it_.” Kakashi said, with a faint growl. Iruka huffed, despite the faint impulse to drop his protest, then realised he was almost _pouting_ and quickly cleared his expression.

“Thank you.” Iruka said after a moment, tugging at the coat and feeling Kakashi’s chilled hands flex around his own. “For. . .” For the warmth, for the soup, for the attention that had been so freely offered, that Iruka hadn’t had to contort himself to gain, for. . .

Iruka felt himself make a helpless trilling noise before he quite realised, unable to put words together.

“You’re welcome.” Kakashi said, shifting his weight, hands sliding away. Iruka caught them in his own without thinking and his eye crinkled. “Go on inside.”

Iruka nodded, stepping back, feeling awkward. Kakashi gave him a gentle nudge, and Iruka turned away, trotting across the grounds towards the orphanage. When he turned at the door he saw a dark figure through the snow, and then-

Kakashi was gone. Iruka shook his head, curling his fingers into the coat as he hurried inside. He could . . . get rid of it later. Or something.

No one had noticed his absence, Iruka found without surprise, and today . . . he didn’t feel like making a show of himself, not even for the distraction of his dorm-mates’ attention. Iruka kept to himself until lights out, which was easy enough he would probably resent it, later, when he was less apathetic about it.

Hidden almost completely beneath his blankets, Iruka rolled onto his side, curling the warm fur into his arms and burying his face against the incredibly soft inside of the collar. He breathed in the clean, sharp, unmistakable tang and felt a shadow of a strong arm curled around him and the low rumble of an alpha’s soothing, companionable growl, the soft touch. . .

Iruka snuggled his face into it a little more, breathing deeply.


End file.
